The Origins of Miss Edith
by justanotherFAYZ
Summary: Crossing both centuries and continents, here is five theories of just how everyone's favourite insane vampiress got to own Miss Edith, a doll who is always seen but never explained. Expect cameos from Spike, Darla, and Angelus. Rated M.
1. London, 1860

**Authors note: ****Have you ever wondered** **where Miss Edith- Drusilla's favourite doll- came from? Crossing both centuries and continents, this makes a couple of theories about just how her companion came about. It shall consist of five short one-shots, and is really just guesswork. All are Drusilla-centric, but the rest of the Fanged Four (Darla, Angelus and Spike) will make at least one appearance each as well. Rated M.**

**TRIGGER WARNING: A lot of these one shots deal with dark subject matter, including depictions of abuse ( verbal, physical and psychological), mental illness, violence, murder, gore and implications of sexual abuse/assault which some may find triggering or discomforting. **_**Please be aware that I do not promote nor do I condone any elements of violence or abuse portrayed in this fic. As I hope everyone reading is aware, none of this stuff is ever ok and Angelus really isn't intended as a role model here.**_

**Thank you very much for reading, I hope you enjoy. All reviews- positive or negative- are much appreciated. I've never wrote a Drusilla-centric fic before so I totally understand if it sucks and I'm really sorry if it does. All criticism welcome. Thank you! :) **

_The Origins of Miss Edith. Theory 1; London, 1860._

"Yes, yes, yes I've had some lovely times here Daddy. This is where my Grandmum- my _other _Grandmum- used to play the harpsichord while little Anne would dance. And this is where uncle baked cookies and bread and sugar and over there my cousin Georgie would bring me daffodils and this is where you took my mummy and snapped her neck."

Drusilla flitted around like a spluttering flame, doused in dream-like memories and alit with wonder. She danced from the kitchen of the abandoned house to the bedrooms to the living room (where no one appeared to be living) to the hall.

"I see." Angelus stalked behind her. "Sounds like you were a spoilt little trollop. Now show me what happened to your father."

His childe giggled manically and kissed him on the nose. "You're my father, daddy. You smell of elderflower and despair."

"I meant your other father."

"But you know daddy." She pleaded, burying her face in his chest.

Angelus gripped her jugular in his hands, both parties apparently forgetting that it was impossible to choke her; "Remind me."

Docile, Drusilla obediently scampered to the cellar door. "Here daddy. You smashed his head with a wine bottle. It made such pretty colours…So much red…"

"And what did you do then Drusilla?" A smirk was surfacing on his angelic features, gorgeous even in demonic countenance. Her sire. Her beautiful, perfect, lovely, feral, vicious, repellent sire.

"I cried like a silly little baby and I ruined my best dress like an animal. Woof." She recited, redder than her father's blood.

"That you did."

"I'm sorry daddy…"

"You stunk Drusilla. Worse than your rotting father."

"My other daddy doesn't talk to me anymore. He speaks with his smell; I can still smell it now. He's ashamed of me…" She babbled.

"Who wouldn't be?"

"My poet won't be. He'll write the lyrics to other daddy's screams and be my sunshine."

Angelus sighed. The one drawback to having an irredeemably insane, completely dependent masterpiece was that she was irredeemably insane and completely dependent. Her ridiculous ramblings were starting to bore him. He flung open a velvet curtain, himself sheltered by shadows.

Sunlight poured onto Drusilla's body. The bullying light pummelled into the young vampiress, sizzling her flesh with its angry glare. The howl from Drusilla's throat was both the most human and inhuman thing Angelus had ever heard. She skitted into the corner of the room, bawling, keening, sobbing.

"In case you haven't noticed Dru, you don't have much fun with sunshine. The sunshine doesn't want you."

He waited for some pretty words for her ugly thoughts. All he heard was whining.

"Alright Dru, looks like we're done here. Tomorrow night; I'll take you to the church you became mine in. You can describe exactly what happened. Or maybe do a demonstration."

…

"Hurry up Dru, there's some shaded alleys we can leave through. If you're a good girl I'll protect you from that nasty sun. Get up." He demanded impatiently.

"_Little boy, bored of toys, he'll lock dolly away. Alone soon, till next moon, never gets to play."_ She chanted in a sing-song voice between sobs.

"Get up now."

"_Daddy!"_ she moaned.

At the end of an exceedingly short tether, Angelus picked up the nearest object and flung it at her. It was a china doll adorned in a scarlet dress, blonde curls flying every which way. An audible _thump!_ Narrated the climax of her tears. Reduced to softly weeping, she reached out to see what had hit her. Miss Edith. One of little Anne's toys, before Drusilla became a toy herself.

"Daddy…" Her lip quivered as she held the ravaged remnant of her life.

She leaped up in the shade and kissed him on the lips.

"You gave Miss Edith to me! I can have her, yes? You're the best daddy ever. You spoil me so. I must be made of butterflies with no wings. You ripped them off." Such a sentence could only be accompanied by a disconcerting grin.

He grunted; "When did I say you could have the thing?"

"Oh please let me have her!" She begged, draping herself around the demon excitedly. "I'll be church-girl good. I'll be your slave. Promise."

"Bit late for that Dru."

"I won't try and run away again. No cotton-wool kingdom for me anymore. I'll be yours forever and ever. Just let me have Miss Edith. _Please."_

He took an unnecessary breath of annoyance. "I don't see why not. But you have to be good or I'm taking her away."

She whispered in his ear like a schoolgirl telling a secret; "I'll be your slave."

"You know what slaves do, Drusilla?" His smile was suggestive. "They get on their knees and worship."

She laughed then and it became clear to her that she wanted to stab her sire, stab him through the heart and set him on fire and make him bleed and bleed and bleed.

She loved her daddy.


	2. Galway, 1873

**Authors note: Thanks a bundle to _Drusilla the Seer _for her incredibly kind review; I'm glad you enjoyed it. It really brightened my day, and you have no idea how much I appreciate comments like yours. Sadly, I haven't had the chance to read the comics yet, but knowing what I do now about the actual origin of Miss Edith a part of me has to admit this fic has been rendered somewhat obsolete, but I'll keep going because I could always put it down as an AU. Thanks again for your lovely support.**

**This story is rather heavy on the angst, but I can assure you it only gets lighter and more hopeful from here. This is about as dark as it gets.**

**TRIGGER WARNING: A lot of these one shots deal with dark subject matter, including depictions of abuse ( verbal, physical and psychological), mental illness, violence, murder, gore, misogynistic slurs and implications of sexual abuse/rape which some may find triggering or discomforting. **_**Please be aware that I do not promote nor do I condone any elements of violence or abuse portrayed in this fic. As I hope everyone reading is aware, none of this stuff is ever ok.**_

**Thank you very much for reading, I hope you enjoy. All reviews- positive or negative- are much appreciated. All criticism welcome. Thank you! **

**I do not own the characters or anything else in relation to the wonderful Joss Whedon's **_**Buffy the Vampire Slayer.**_

* * *

_Theory 2; Galway, 1873. _

Angelus hadn't eaten a fellow Irishman since the Great Potato Famine of 1945. Alas, starvation made his kin taste watery, blood flowing thinner than the soup they seldom reaped from the kitchens. His homeland had since recovered, but he could swear there was still a bitter edge to their blood he hadn't recognised before. He had a profound sympathy for the starving, in some ways. He knew what it felt like to truly hunger, not least for the snapping of necks…

Letting the body drop and his libido rise, he spun to grab Drusilla by the waist.

The succubae purred; "Daddy unlocked the treasure chest and took out the rusty tiara? I love it when my Angel plays with the broken toys."

He growled possessively; "Don't sulk, Dru. I'm giving you attention now. All the attention a whore deserves, mm?"

The manner in which he pinned his Childe against a tree answered his question for him.

The proximity was dizzying, but Drusilla didn't mind. She rarely paid any attention to such trivial things like her body anymore. Her mind was so far away so much of the time that her skull had become untenable, no longer her home. It was simply a tea room to visit when she tired of fireworks and fairies and flaming doves leaving cracks in the horizon.

"I have a present for you when we get back home, Precious." Angelus smiled darkly.

"A prezzie? Oh goody! But I thought only Grandmum' got presents…"

He rolled his eyes; "Madness, Drusilla. I've bought you more presents than I have church children, though they do tend to fall under the same category. Remember when I got you those nice earrings?"

"They were lovely Daddy…Obsidian they were, buzzing…" She sighed dreamily, before befuddlement braced her face; "But there were no holes in my ears."

A grin; "Indeed there wasn't. That was half the fun."

The Seer repressed a wince, certain she could feel the bloody furrows in her ears even now. On the other hand, she was also certain that the corpse her sire fed from was gossiping about her and would have to be caned.

A few steps and bodies later they arrived at the abandoned farm house they occupied. The younger vampire sat, eyes closed and perched on his bed as gracefully as her jittering body would allow. She was not quite excited and not quite terrified; instead swinging between the two like a dilapidated swing in a hurricane. She began to hum, deciding she was lucky just to hold Angelus's attention.

"Open your eyes, Dru."

Drusilla did.

Drusilla whimpered.

"No no no no no no no no how rude of you to be in big sister's room. Naughty!"

Angelus held her hands and crushed them, a parody of affection; "Don't you like her, Dru? You seemed fonder when she was sleeping with her head in a pail of water."

"_Miss Edith?" _Tears marred her cheeks, sizzling hotter than a crucifix.

"Miss Edith? Ah, that was what you screamed, I remember. You even tried to close your eyes, to disobey me. Was she your sibling? Cousin? I think she was one of your sisters. There were quite a few of them after all, it took hours. Either way, I know how much she meant to you, and I thought she'd be interested to see you now, know exactly what you've become. Aren't you glad you're reunited again?"

The deranged demon collapsed into her sire's lap, a potpourri of distressed sounds heaved out of her throat painfully, vomiting up words as they came to her. "Don't let her look daddy, please! She'll tell the invisible man. She'll tell mummy. They'll know. They'll know I'm dirty. Mud on the skirt the wolf tore off. _It stings, it stings!"_

Clutching her chin, the older vampire jerked her head with frightful force to face the china doll. "I took the sketch I did to the local emporium and told them everything they needed to know. Complexion, eye colour, even the height is down to the centimetre. Of course, her dress would of originally have been white rather than red…but something must of stained it that fateful night."

The doll's resemblance was truly remarkable, mocking Drusilla with her golden curls and judging eyes. She could see. She could see the way Angelus was touching her, and where.

"Get it away from me!" She begged. "She hates me, _she hates me_!"

"Well, it's only understandable, princess." He taunted casually. "She's knows you're a spawn of Satan, and a harlot, and that you belong to the person who killed her. What matters is that I brought her back to you, Dru. Time to show her how her big sister says _'thank you'_."

* * *

Drusilla lay limp on the bed, the doll thrust firmly into her reluctant arms.

"Are you thankful, Drusilla?"

"Yes, Daddy. Thank you. I'm ever so lucky to be yours." She promised in a wandering monotone, face scarlet from crying. "Is my Angel going to find Grandmum' now?" She didn't need precognitive powers to venture such a guess.

Angelus grunted in reply, more preoccupied with the buckling of his belt.

"Dip her in gold and whisper the world to her. She likes that."

He sighed; "That I shall if I don't wish for her to _maul me._ Well, Drusilla, remember what I said; I'll either see you with drenched in holy water or I shall see you carrying Miss Edith at all times. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Daddy. She needs to know what an evil thing I am…I don't deserve to sleep with the tulips."

And thus, the elder vampire departed for the Master Bedroom.

She dared a glance at the porcelain dolly like it was Medusa, except she knew Miss Edith was not the monster in question.

"Don't you say such things, wicked girl. They're not true. The teapot has been spreading lies about me!" She pleaded. Unhappy with the further slander, she flung the doll into the cabinet. "I am _not! _My poet told me. Or he will when he buries his baby teeth. _No, you cannot tell Auntie!_ If you tell Auntie I'll tell her you stole liquorice right out of her apron!"

Whimpers supplemented sanity; "…Please don't tell her. She'll never love me again. I need some love, Miss Edith. Can't wring foxes without a noose, no, no, no …I'm sorry I let you get hurt. I didn't mean to be a devil child. I need you, and you need me, and we need each other, and we shall have cake."

She went to cradle the china infant in her arms then, stroking the tresses of her hair and choking out vocabulary; "I'm never letting you of my sight again, silly little girl. We'll have tea parties every day and you'll love me again and I'll never have to see blood on your pretty face again and you won't hate me."

She wept then. Funny. It looked and sounded exactly like laughter.


End file.
